I am quite capable of erudite expression. I have both an education and a vocabulary and I am unafraid to use either. Indeed, I believe that I shall begin a whole new School which I shall call "Erudite Expressionism." This can be followed by "Post-Erudite Expressionism" and even "Post-Post-Erudite Expressionism." There is, in fact, no end in sight for Erudite Expressionism in its many and varied facets.

I will leave "Post-Post-Erudite Expressionistic Deconstructionism" to Amos.

You know, Rap, you and Amos are like the two bookends between which the infinite field of all reality is nervously poised....each of you positioned at the farthest opposite extremity and somehow holding the whole thing tenuously in place.

You and Amos are the Alpha and the Omega. The Yang and the Yin of all Creation. He baffles with exquisitely erudite blather, you counter with roaring, foaming, chest-beating primitivism.

Nail-Teeth Ned picked a fight with me up at the Legion Hovel 'tother night, LH. Neddy was thought to be the meanest, dirtiest-fighting, guy in these parts. Used to bite ears off his opponents, chew them up, and spit them back into the guy's face. He collected noses that he'd pulled off. His body odor was such that he lived at the dump and kept it free of rats and flies; his hair was so greasy bedbugs used it for a ski jump. Every now and then he'd eat a boulder "ta keep ma breth fresh" as he so quaintly put it.

Anyway, he started in about lace doilies, and then he tried to "muckle into" me.

I laid him out with one punch and shoved his feet so far down his throat that he disappeared completely.

Look, man, I wouldn't even work up a light sweat with the daily troubles you face in your neck of the woods. Pansy stuff. I'm surprised you dare to show your face around town now that word has got out about your collection of lace doilies...

What, Mom? I'm to be nice to Amos? Mom, that's a LONG time to be nice to Amos. Okay, okay. I'll be nice to him. I'll try, Mom. I promise. Please don't cry. I'll really, really try. Now c'mon and we'll have a nice cup of tea.

A loaded gun and bowie knife just to take out the trash? And you call THAT living on the edge of the Wilderness??

Hell, sonny-boy, when I took out the trash last Friday I had to fight two grizzlies and a mountain lion before I could get it to the street! Fight 'em with nothin' but a used toothpick, my fingernails, and pair of twin .458 revolvers, a sawed-off ten gauge, and a machete in each hand.

I am glad to hear that is the cause of the condition, Mistuh Chongo, as it is curable, especially in one so attuned to spiritual matters. I was afraid he might have had a secret addiction to broccoli.

In other news:

Many chemotherapy drugs work by interfering with the cell-division cycle. The drugs reach healthy cells and cancer cells alike, but they do most of their damage to the cancer cells. Unfortunately, some types of healthy cells divide as rapidly as cancer cells and are badly damaged as well. Such cells are found in bone marrow, the lining of the digestive tract, and hair follicles, so chemotherapy patients often lose their hair and are susceptible to infection. The damage to healthy cells limits the drug dose that a patient can tolerate and therefore limits the treatment's effectiveness.

Yoram Palti, of the Technion?Israel Institute of Technology in Haifa, and his colleagues have demonstrated another way to disrupt cell division: alternating electric fields with intensities of just 1?2 V/cm. The fields they use, with frequencies in the hundreds of kilohertz, were previously thought to do nothing significant to living cells other than heating them. But Palti and colleagues have conducted a small clinical trial showing that the fields have an effect in slowing the growth of tumors.1

In studies of tumor cells in vitro, Palti and colleagues observed two distinct effects, both of which depend on the direction of cell division with respect to the applied field.2 First, they found that cells in the electric field take longer than usual to divide, as shown in figure 1a. Second, they found that dividing cells sometimes disintegrate just before the division process is complete, as shown in figure 1, panels b and c. They offer an explanation for each effect.

The researchers suggest that cell division is slowed because the electric field hinders the formation and function of the mitotic spindle, the structure that guides the newly replicated chromosomes as they separate into the two daughter cells. The mitotic spindle is made up of microtubules, formed by the polymerization of dimers of the protein tubulin. (Microtubules and other cellular structures are illustrated in PHYSICS TODAY, September 2006, page 80.)

The tubulin dimers and polymers have large dipole moments, so they are affected by the electric field. But most other biochemical processes also involve polar molecules and structures, and small oscillating electric forces don't appear to have much of an effect on them. The difference, says Palti, is that when the tubulin dimers assemble into the mitotic spindle, they all line up in the same direction. If that direction happens to be orthogonal to the direction of the electric field, the microtubules are less likely to function normally.

This is interesting, and good news. It means Royal Rife was essentially right.

It's what he secretly dreams of, Amos. He can hardly bear the ignominy of not being a Yank, a citizen of the greatest country on Earth, like Clint Eastwood and Arnold Schwarzennegger. He hates the fact that I am a naturalized American citizen, and that I live in Chicago, the greatest burg in the world. He's green with envy.

Relate to it? Hell, you're channeling him!!! And doing a better job of it than you did channeling Catspaw, old fruit. :D

If you keep practicing your mindless braggodocio and transcendental narcissistic megalomania, you'll outdo him!! Then, you'll be qualified to apply for Citizenship in the Great U-S of A!! Howdja like THEM apples, compadre?????

I would never deign to live in the suburbs. The suburbs are for milquetoasts and couch potatoes. I live at the edge of the Canadian wilderness, in an environment filled with the heady scent of danger and sudden death. I carry a loaded gun and a Bowie knife out with me when I put out the garbage. I chew on grass stems and pick my teeth with pine splinters. I wrassle bears bare-handed and laugh at death.

As for houses in the suburbs, you could do a LOT worse, I would mention, than to have one. I do, and it is a source of great pleasure to me. I mean if you HAVE to have shelter in this bloody universe, why not have one that suits your needs and is full of your favorite tools and toys? They are useful for raising yonkers in, handy for bringing more than one visitor together at a time for lively conversations, useful for storing food, bedding, books, films, informational libraries, and toiletries in, convenient to hand, and for providing a safe and comfortable resource for spending the nights enjoyably.

Instead of all this concept-coshing, You, who do not, might take up washing. 'T would palliate your social fears, And mayhap open up your ears And this -- if you should take the trouble -- Your language skills might soon redouble Your mind would stride, instead of hobble, Cruise instead of stall and bobble (Assuming that said mind is fillable) When you can hear more than one syllable!

Boy, the loss of that pencil still hurts, I tell you! I fear that Pamela is now fat, married, had the kids and the house in the suburbs, gone to seed, and barely in any way resembles the girl I knew back in '65. Mortality is a terrible thing.

*****

Oh, Amos, savant that you are, You ramble on like an antique car Eschewing those more common words Enjoyed by we, the unwashed herd You blather and pontificate You dance and mince and prance and prate In ways that do astound...and more! But when, sir..... When will you give o'er?

Little Hawk, I read and appreciated your jeremiad regarding your lost pencil. My condolences. I did notice a girl's expired id tag in a box on his dresser, now that we can see the top of his dresser, but I haven't asked about it. He receives calls at the house from male and female friends, but I haven't detected a decided preference.

I didn't toss what I weeded unless it was out and out trash--that was also mentioned earlier. It's in boxes in the living room for the moment. This morning I asked him if it felt like he had a new room and he said yes, and clearly likes the new arrangement. He's free to rearrange if he wants, as long as he cleans as he goes (I don't think he realized that, but of course they can rearrange if they want.) I told him I want to sell some of the toys, explained which ones and why, and told him I'll split the cash with him (I'll cover my eBay fees and pay myself something for the time to list them). That surprised him, but they are his toys and anything with a fairly high-dollar value seems it should be discussed and agreed to. Heck, he can go back through the stuff and retrieve what he wants, but he has to put it away neatly, that's my requirement.

Of 19 thousand and two hundred posts I sing, By making this one - just the very thing, To tweak you, Hack, a bit, and cast yeshame, For claiming ignorance in virtue's name. And strutting loudly, as has been your wont, Using the words you know to vilify the words you don't!

I know a man who actually wears a Tilley hat now and then, specially when he is out "birding", and my GOD it looks stupid! The poor fellow probably imagines that he is right in style, so I have not troubled him about it. Why burst his bubble? I do try, though, to avoid being seen in his company in public places when he is wearing it. I make excuses. I say I got an important call and must rush off. You know how it is.

But I think if you had a Tilley, even one bought through REI, it would be unmistakeable. I got my first Tilley there and it was clearly branded, and complete with Owner's Manual and Brag Sheet slips in the crown pocket.

I have a Clancy hat from New Zealand, a Pendleton from Oregon, a camo from the VN War, a whole bunch of caps, and what might be a Tilley as made for REI. And a straw hat I got at the CAL Ranch store. I have flat wool caps, stocking caps (toques), balaclavas, and even a black felt hat in the style of the 19th Century US Cavalry complete with gold cord and crossed sabers. I have a tam, a tricorn, and a flat-crowned cowboy hat. I have far, far more hats and caps than I have heads to wear them.

Stilly, you were lucky you didn't throw out some ordinary-looking, yet precious object belonging to your son whilst cleaning that room. Very lucky. Note my earlier post at 7:38 PM, which you may have missed.

By the way, I have encountered exactly the same problems with those damn mattress pads. Just as you describe. It took me about 15 very frustrating minutes to get one back on the mattress a couple of weeks ago (after having washed it). I'd get 2 or 3 corners down and...SPROING!!!

As a trained Parks and Rec person (my undergraduate degree) I can attest to the dexterity and ingenious moves that many Park and Rec folks use to approach such novel tasks. But as many of those aforesaid former Park and Rec folk will concur, my first thought and theirs would be "bring the sandblasting stuff to the rock." As Amos already noted.

Thanks, Janie, for thinking of me. I didn't need to exit the window, though I did have to suck in my gut to get between the desk and the couch a couple of times. My back is a bit sore now, but the room is looking great. I warned his dad to bring him home a little later than usual to give me extra time, but not to tell him why. I'd moved and cleaned and rearranged by the time he came in.

There was a dim "why'd you rearrange things?" but as soon as he saw that he can now sit on his couch and easily play his video games, and can easily change out the cables between the games (he used to have to turn the television on the shelf to reach to AV plugs in back--now the shelf is perpendicular to the wall and easy to reach), AND that there is room for both of his guitars and his amp, he relaxed. His bed is repositioned but there is a lot more room now that two ugly shelving units are out. In this high school sophomore's bedroom I bailed out papers going back to the fifth grade (accretion of papers in bins, on which the next year's papers are stacked or a new bin is added, then shoved in the closet or under the desk, etc.) Gum becomes liquid when the sticks sit around in dark places for a really long time. Hard candy becomes soft. Fortunately ants didn't come and carry off his room with all of the food wrappers I found in there.

The sheets, blankets, and mattress pad are all freshly laundered and the bed made. Have you ever tried to put one of those really really stretchy-edged mattress pads on a queen sized bed by yourself? It involves kneeling on the first corner, laying on top between the first and the second corner, sprawling to reach the third corner and being spreadeagled* to reach the fourth. By the time you finish you're sweating so much it doesn't seem like the fresh mattress cover is still as fresh as it was or if it was worth the trouble. I did that twice today, on my bed and on his. What a workout.

*Don't attempt this if you don't have a cell phone in your pocket. If the corners pop off when you're spread out like that you'll be trapped in the mattress cover and must call 911 to have them release you.

I was heartbroken during my recent trip to San Jose to discover I had lost my Tilley Air-Flo three-times-through-an-elephant* hat.

Today, on the occasion of my Best Beloved Wife's birthday, I am happy to report that we stopped at a hat store in artsy-fartsy Hillcrest and found its duplicate in my exact size. Plus we had a lovely brunch at Bread & Cie where they make all their own bread. Delicious.

Now that I am again equipped to adventure into the world, I feel renewed. Life is good.

A

(*This is a true story. An animal keeper lost his beloved Tilley hat to the curiousity and appetite of an elephant, and he was so fond of the hat he waited for it to reappear, washed it throughly, and resumed wearing it. This recurred three times. The Tilley company offered him a new one if they could have the 3-times-through-an-elephant hat for their museum; he refused passionately. Tilley owners do not part with their headgear lightly.)

Inukshuks are used in the Arctic as signposts, religious objects, markers of caches, ways to tell others "I went this-a-way", markers of good hunting areas, etc. etc. There are several entire books on them.

An Inukshuk will be the symbol of the Winter Olympic Games in British Columbia. Go to Canada and you'll find them all over. I, as usual, am simply ahead of the rest of the US.

LH, I thought about computing the distance and trajectory necessary, snakeholing the charge, and sending the rock on its way. However, it is presently located about 50 yards from the door to the police station and THAT presents certain problems. I'll probably just ask Parks and Rec to do it -- besides, the folks that have it will load it into a truck for us with a forklift, and the monument company will take it out and reload with one.

Not at all like the old days, when I had to use a chain hoist to load the stones on the truck or to move them around...and skid boards, rollers, dock trucks older than I was, and similar "old fashioned" equipment. Heck, the chain hoist was probably installed in 1888, when the shop was built.

Actually, Rapaire, it would be lots easier -- if the rock is where you think it ultimately will stand -- to move the sandblasting equipmet to the rock. It is usually designed to be portable, as you probably know.

That Inukshuk is an interesting thing, a sort of dolmen on steroids. Reminds me of the fields of menhirs one sees in Brittany. What is it about? Whose tradition is it found in?

I know I could get a straight answer from Google, but I thought you might have some depth on the subject.

How far away is the local monument company, Rapaire? I need to know so as to calculate the amount of explosives necessary to move your rock the appropriate distance. You also need to position them right or the rock may move in the wrong direction. If that were to happen then it could result in a mishap, such as the rock falling on Dick Cheney's limousine while he's driving through your area. I wouldn't want that to happen to an innocent rock.

Are you sure he isn't spouting codswallop, Amos? I think that malarkey might be a level or two higher than that, somewhere in the region of horsefeathers or bullwhip.

Stilly, when your 15-year old sees what you have done to his room..........! (He will just hate you. For awhile.)

I remember. My mother decided to "clean up" my room one time when I was around that age, and I wasn't there to protect it. Among the "useless" stuff she disposed of or lost in the process was a pencil...a seemingly ordinary pencil with yellow sides and a green ring near the eraser end. I can still picture it perfectly today, 43 years later. That pencil had been given casually to me by Pamela Ford at the end of math class, since I had assisted her in completing a math problem. A few of her molecules were on that pencil. I was desperately in love with Pamela Ford, a girl who was only vaguely aware of my existence, and she gave me that pencil in a moment which I think meant little to her, but a great deal to me. I treasured that pencil with all my heart. It was as close as I was ever going to get to Pamela. I intended to keep it in my care for the rest of my life, take it out now and then, and gaze on it with mournful, longing eyes. I would still have that pencil today, resting in the top drawer of my dresser, if my Mother had not decided to CLEAN OUT MY ROOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAARGGHHHH!!!!!!!

He's going to just hate you. ;-) Here's a tip. Put all the stuff somewhere where he can go through it, just in case....before it gets tossed.

Funny you should mention piling up rocks. I'm collecting rocks to build an Inukshuk in the back yard.

I also have to figure out how to move a 600 to 700 pound rock from where it is to the local monument company (so that the Library's brand can be sandblasted in it) and then back to the Library and into the Children's Room.

Actually, I can figure out several ways of doing this, the simplest being to call Parks and Recreation and tell them what I need done.